Night and Day
by Mizvoy
Summary: Night and Day is a series of episode additions that let us see the KathrynCaptain differences from Chakotay's perspective. These stories are in the same universe as Broken Hearts.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters are the property of Paramount. I'm just borrowing them.

Summary: Night and Day will be a series of episode additions that let us see the Kathryn/Captain differences from Chakotay's perspective. This is an episode addition to "One Small Step" in which Chakotay is called to task for his failure to follow orders.

"Night and Day"

by mizvoy

"One Small Step" (PG) Stardate 53293.1

(Immediately following "One Small Step"--the episode where the Delta Flyer is nearly lost while retrieving the logs and the body of John Kelly, the Mars explorer, from the graviton ellipse).

Except for the glow of the panel above the biobed and the soft chirp of the medical instruments, sickbay was dark and quiet, as it always was during night watch. Chakotay touched the cortical stimulator still fastened to his forehead and winced slightly at the resulting stab of pain. The atmospheric buffers had activated minutes earlier, so he knew it was just after 0300. In just a few hours, he'd meet with Captain Janeway about his insubordination on the Delta Flyer, and the thought of the confrontation made him slightly nauseous.

He sighed and shifted on the bed, trying to find a position that would ease his conscience. He thought through the course of events again. The captain had told him to abandon the Mars probe and leave the graviton ellipse at once, and he had refused to do so. Her order was clear and direct, as the record would confirm, and Tom and Seven had begged him to obey, yet he had deliberately ignored them all, nearly costing Voyager three lives and the Delta Flyer in the process. The fact that everyone had survived in relatively good condition did nothing to lessen the seriousness of his offense. Not even the salvage of John Kelly's logs made it right.

Janeway had passed through sickbay twice since their perilous rescue, for he'd heard that Voyager itself had been in danger of destruction during the effort to retrieve the Delta Flyer. The captain's first visit had occurred immediately after he'd been beamed aboard, directly to sickbay. She had stood close to his biobed, her hand resting on his arm as the doctor briefed her on his condition. When the EMH said that his injury would necessitate an overnight stay, she had gazed down at him sympathetically and had given his arm a reassuring squeeze. She hadn't learned yet that it was his insubordination that had trapped the Flyer inside the anomaly, and he hadn't had the strength or the courage to tell her himself.

When she had returned a few hours later, her demeanor had toughened, and there had been no sign of the sympathy she had shown him on her previous visit. Of course, Chakotay knew why her attitude had changed. She had, in the meantime, debriefed both Tom and Seven, and they had told her about his blatant disregard of her orders. She now knew that he was responsible for the crisis, and she had every right to be furious with him.

Just before her return, he'd heard that John Kelly's funeral would be held at once, even though Chakotay would not be well enough to attend. This was just the first part of his punishment, he told himself, an unspoken signal from the captain of the penalty he was going to pay. Janeway had been on her way to the ceremony and was wearing her dress uniform when she'd arrived in sickbay like a small tropical storm, creating an atmospheric disturbance severe enough to bring the EMH's incessant chatter to an abrupt stop--he hadn't even acknowledged her arrival in his realm.

"Commander," she'd said in a voice that was dangerously soft, her eyes an icy grey, "when you're released from sickbay tomorrow, come directly to the ready room. We have a matter of importance to address."

He'd let out the breath he'd been holding. "Yes, Captain."

She'd nodded, turned on her heel, and left sickbay without another word. The EMH had simply huffed and retreated to his office, unwilling to offer his patient the slightest hope of comfort or reassurance. He had listened to the ceremony over the intercom while the doctor administered to him, but he'd spent the bulk of the evening alone, drifting into and out of sleep.

Now, in the restless hours of night watch, he could think of nothing but the upcoming confrontation. There was nothing he could say in his defense. Both Tom and Seven had warned him in advance and had chastised him afterwards for his poor judgment, but their stinging words would not come close to the pain he'd feel during his captain's forthcoming reprimand. He closed his eyes and groaned at the thought of facing her righteous indignation.

"Are you in pain?"

His eyes flew open at the sound of Janeway's voice. He lifted his head slightly and saw her standing in the shadows just beyond the foot of the bed. "No, Captain, I'm just apprehensive. I didn't hear you come in."

"I used the lab entrance, in case you were asleep. I didn't want to awaken you."

He tried to imagine why she had come. As angry as she must be, she would never reprimand him while he was still under the doctor's care. Something else must be troubling her. "You're up very late."

"Tuvok and I split your bridge shift. I decided to check on you before I went to bed."

He took a closer look. She was in her turtleneck and slacks, her captain's pips and tunic already removed. He couldn't see her feet, but she seemed shorter than usual. He imagined she had discarded her boots and was wearing the low-heeled slippers she preferred during her off-duty hours. If Tuvok had taken the second half of his bridge shift, she would have been off duty for over an hour, long enough to be in bed and fast asleep by now. He realized then that she had come from her quarters, not the bridge, and he felt a sudden overwhelming tide of guilt for causing her distress.

"I was wrong, Captain."

She approached the side of the bed and shook her head. "We'll deal with that in the morning, Chakotay."

"You came to check on me?" he asked, bewildered. She'd used his name, not his rank; she was here as Kathryn, not as his captain. She stepped closer. He saw, for the first time, the tortured look in her eyes and realized that she was emotionally upset, not angry. "Kathryn, are you all right?"

"No, I'm not all right." She closed her eyes and seemed to falter slightly. "Did it ever occur to you that we would have had to find a way to go on without you?"

"I . . . didn't think."

"Do you know how hard it is to watch people you care about die right before your eyes, to be powerless to rescue them? It breaks your heart," she paused to catch her breath, looking away to hide the glint of tears in her eyes. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep on living when your heart is broken?"

He was so surprised at the anguish in her voice that he just stared at her for a few moments with his mouth open. He finally answered her, squinting slightly against a throbbing behind his eyes, "I didn't think about dying. All I could think about was salvaging that probe."

"I can understand how much you wanted to retrieve it. I'm sure the logs will be a fascinating addition to history and look forward to reading your analysis of them."

"But I was wrong to risk our lives to salvage it." He put his hand to his temple where the ache threatened to blossom into a headache.

"You are in pain," she replied, stepping closer as she casually brushed her eyes with her fingertips. Her fingers were cool and damp with tears as she gently turned his head and checked the cortical monitor. "Do you need the doctor?"

"No, please, don't activate him. I'm not in that much pain."

Her eyes were calm and analytical as she glanced at the readings on the biobed and then back at him. The intimate moment had passed, he realized with despair. He wondered what was haunting her about this particular close call when there had been so many others just as terrifying. Perhaps it was just that this crisis would have been avoided if he had obeyed her orders.

"You need to time to recover, Chakotay. If you're too tired when the doctor releases you in the morning, go to your quarters and get some rest, and we'll address our problem once you're feeling up to it."

"Our problem. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather get it out of the way as soon as possible."

"All right, but don't worry about it now. Just concentrate on getting better. I need you." With those words, she stepped away, but she had withdrawn emotionally moments earlier. He could hear the resignation in her voice as she headed for the door, pausing after they opened, but not looking back. "We'll do what we have to do, Chakotay, just as we always do. We have no choice."

Later that morning, he wondered how the woman who had visited him in sickbay could be the same person waiting for him in her ready room. He stepped into her private office and met a captain who was all fire and ice with none of the vulnerability or anguish he had seen just a few hours earlier. With Tuvok as witness, she stood Chakotay in front of her desk and proceeded to blister him with her wrath and resentment, her fury mounting each time he was unable to give her a legitimate reason for his insubordination.

She circled the desk and stopped right in front of him, looking up at him with blazing eyes. "Was it possible, Commander, that my order to leave the anomaly immediately was garbled in transmission?"

"No, Captain. I heard your order loud and clear."

She looked away as she struggled to keep her temper, and then she turned to him again. "Can you offer me any reason that can justify your insubordination?"

"No, ma'am."

"Were you under the assumption that the recovery of the Mars explorer was of greater importance than your lives? Or the safety of the Flyer?"

"No, Captain."

"When Tom Paris and Seven of Nine warned you that the Flyer would be unable to escape with the probe in tow, did you misunderstand their warnings?"

"No, Captain, I did not."

"So it was as they say." She crossed her arms and stared to her right, out the window and into the stars that were streaming past the ship. He could see that she was trembling with rage and struggling to find her composure, and he simply awaited his fate. Finally she took a deep breath and looked up at him with defiance on her face.

"You leave me no choice, Commander. I cannot tolerate such disregard for the safety and well-being of our crew, not to mention the Flyer, and ultimately Voyager herself, especially not from my second in command. I will place a formal reprimand in your file, and you will be confined to quarters when off duty for the next thirty days."

"Yes, ma'am." He had decided from the beginning to accept his punishment, whatever it was, without comment, and this was an elegant solution. The reprimand would be a permanent reminder, and his confinement would be visible to the crew without creating a burden by making the captain and Tuvok work his shifts. He immediately made the offer that he knew protocol demanded from him. "Captain, if you've lost confidence in me as your first officer, then I respectfully tender my resignation."

Her head snapped up, and she pointed at his chest as she answered, just for emphasis. "Oh, Commander, if I only had that luxury." Tuvok's eyes narrowed in satisfaction at his offer, but Janeway simply sighed. "But I can't help but wonder what I would have done if I had been the one on the Flyer, . . . ." Her voice trailed off, and then she shook her head. "You were caught up in the heat of the moment, determined to see the recovery through to a successful conclusion. I understand your single-mindedness, even if I can't excuse it."

"I've apologized to Tom and Seven for risking their lives, and I deeply regret that I disappointed you, Captain." His voice was full of emotion, but he wanted her to know how upset he was to have let her down. "I'm sorry for causing this trouble and for putting the ship in danger. I won't let it happen again."

"See that it doesn't, Commander. Dismissed." She faltered only briefly, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose before turning away as Tuvok escorted him from her office.

He walked slowly to his quarters, deep in thought. In the press of duty, in the blinding resolve to succeed in spite of the odds, one never thinks of the people being left behind. A hero's courage is a momentary daring that often comes to an abrupt and lethal end. But Chakotay knew that it takes just as much courage, if not more, to find the durable bravery of survival, to live on with guilt and remorse for the rest of one's days.

As painful as the Captain's rebuke had been, the words that haunted him most were the ones Kathryn had said softly the night before: "Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep on living when your heart is broken?"

By the time he arrived at his quarters, he was dead on his feet. He peeled off his tunic, stumbled toward his bedroom, and then collapsed face down on the mattress, too tired to remove his boots. He drifted quickly toward sleep, wondering what heartbreak Kathryn had experienced that taught her so well the anguish of the survivor. Was it Voyager's exile in the Delta Quadrant? Was it her fianc's marriage? Her father's death? Or was it a tragedy she had kept hidden in her past?

With a groan, he buried his face in his pillow and yawned. Whatever had happened, she had found a way to keep on living, and she had done so with typical Janeway courage and stoicism. Although he admired her indomitable spirit, he would never forget the despair and sadness he had heard in her voice the night before. Impossible as it seemed, Kathryn Janeway's heart had been broken, and, as he drifted off to an exhausted sleep, Chakotay told himself that someday he would have to find out when and how it had happened.

The End


	2. Night and Day 2: Scorpion

Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters are the property of Paramount. I'm just borrowing them.

Note: Night and Day will be a series of episode additions that let us see the Kathryn/Captain differences from Chakotay's perspective (not necessarily in chronological order).

Summary: This is an episode addition to "Scorpion" during which Chakotay and Janeway suffer the first serious rupture in their friendship when she insists on making a treacherous alliance with the Borg as they fight against Species 8472. It occurs prior to "The Gift," the episode during which Seven is gradually "de-Borged" and Kes leaves the ship.

Night and Day 2

"Scorpion"

by mizvoy

Stardate 51007.0 (Two days after the end of the episode)

Chakotay left the turbolift and paused momentarily on the bridge to let a wave of vertigo pass. It had been two days since he'd lost consciousness while connected to Seven of Nine through a neural transmitter, but he still had moments of dizziness and nausea that were worsened by the motion of the turbolift. His hesitation was brief, yet he sensed Tuvok's alarm at his momentary loss of concentration. Chakotay gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. Just a little lightheaded once in awhile," he explained as he moved smoothly across the bridge.

The doctor had asked him to remain under observation in sick bay or to rest in his quarters, but Chakotay felt that he had no choice but to be on duty. Voyager was in shambles, and B'Elanna Torres' first estimate of two weeks with only impulse power was proving to be much too optimistic. He and the entire crew would work long hours before Voyager was heading away from Borg space at high warp speed, and no one could relax until they were out of danger.

They'd paid a high price for the captain's alliance with the Borg, and he, for one, remained unconvinced that the gamble had worked in their favor. But, what was done couldn't be changed, and so he focused on escaping the area before the Borg came looking for them.

He was admitted at once to the captain's ready room, only to find Janeway sitting thoughtfully behind her desk in near-total darkness. When the doors closed, he could barely see her form in the shadows. "Am I interrupting your nap, Captain?"

"No, Commander, I'm just trying to think things through." She found no humor in his quip as she ordered to lights to normal and looked at him expectantly, surprised to find him carrying a single PADD instead of the usual stack of four or five. "What do you have for me?"

He put the PADD behind his back. "I just wanted to follow up on a comment you made last night as we left the holodeck."

"Ah, yes, let me guess what comment is bothering you. I told you that if it's at all possible, Seven of Nine will stay on Voyager. You voiced an objection or two and then let the thought pass, but I didn't really think you were finished discussing it." She looked at Chakotay warily, expecting him to outline in greater detail his argument against the newest prospective crew member, but he simply stood there staring at her without saying a word. "Well?" she asked, finally. "Aren't you going to tell me it's too risky?"

Her dismissive attitude angered him, but he decided that there was little to be gained by provoking her with another wisecrack. "If you'd wanted my opinion, Captain, you would've asked me for it before you made your decision. You're the captain. You do what you want, when you want." He paused a moment and then plunged on, unable to resist making a stinging remark in spite of himself. "But when everything falls to pieces, you'll count on the rest of usdoing whatever it takes to put Voyager back together again."

He could tell he'd touched a nerve. Voyager was in pieces at the moment because of a unilateral decision she'd made, and he could tell that she wanted very much to vent her irritation at his impertinent remark. Instead, she stood up, walked around her desk, and breezed past him to the upper level of the room. She faced away from him, supposedly to look out the windows, but probably to keep him from seeing her facial expressions during what would be an awkward discussion. She could hide her face, but she couldn't mask the stiff posture that revealed the depth of her agitation.

They had both known that this personal confrontation was inevitable. The need for quick action and cooperation had forced them to work together to defeat the drone, but it hadn't resolved the issues that caused their initial disagreement. They might have salvaged their command relationship, but their friendship was still in ruins, and it was possible that the friendship was damaged beyond repair. Only time would tell.

"What you say is true. I'm captain and I don't need your permission or anyone else's to keep the drone on board. Nor am I asking for your permission to do so. In fact, I take full responsibility for such a dangerous decision."

He remained in front of her desk, grateful for the distance that separated them. "Taking responsibility for the decision doesn't mean that you can't hear my thoughts first."

"And what would you possibly say about this situation that I don't already know, Commander?"

"Maybe this. I've experienced two close brushes with the Borg collective. I still have a headache from the last one a couple of days ago. Once before, I was connected to a Borg cooperative, thanks to Riley Frazier. I've heard the voices, and I've experienced the intimate bond the drones share. In spite of my long-standing allegiance to you and our ship, they were able to convince me to betray Voyager and disobey your orders. How can you be sure Seven of Nine will want to leave that connection behind? It's incredibly seductive, Captain, and it's the only life she remembers."

"Then we'll just have to create new memories for her and forge new loyalties. We'll have to show her the advantages of individuality."

"And what if the collective finds her? What if they can use implants to track us down?"

"We'll deal with that when . . . and if . . . it happens. The doctor is doing a detailed study of her implants right now, and soon we'll have a better understanding of how the collective works than has ever been possible before." The captain crossed her arms, but still faced away from him. "She was an innocent human child when she was assimilated, Commander, taken against her will into what can only be called the cruelest form of slavery. I can't return her to that slavery. I want to give her a chance to be human."

He stared at her unyielding posture, and then he realized the implications of what she'd said. "You want to use her."

Janeway turned her head slightly at his accusation. "I beg your pardon?"

"You want to dissect her and study her and use whatever knowledge you can reap from the process to prepare for our next confrontation with the Borg."

Silence. For a long moment, Janeway didn't move, but then she brought a trembling hand to her brow. "The tactical advantage she would afford us has occurred to me, of course, but that's not my primary reason for keeping her. She was a human first, Chakotay." She paused, and he knew she was thinking about her alternatives. "How could I return her to the collective without endangering the ship or leaving her in isolation? I hope, in time, that she'll feel she belongs with us and voluntarily share her knowledge in order to escape reassimilation."

"A spy of sorts, then. Once again taken against her will from what she considers 'home.'" Chakotay thought he should be horrified by Janeway's cold-hearted exploitation of the drone, but instead he found it logical and ingenious--an act worthy of a Maquis. He realized once again that a confrontation between himself and Janeway would have been an interesting, challenging, and deadly contest. "So, that's that. You've made your decision. What could you possibly want from me?"

"I want to know that you'll support me when I inform the staff of the decision."

"You flatter me, Captain, because you don't really need my support. You just need someone to buffer you from the fear and worry of the crew. You need someone to be there to watch your back in case something goes wrong." He paused as she turned to glare at him; he glared right back. "What choice do I have, truthfully? Is there any place else for me to go? Can I ask for a transfer to another ship? Can I stop off at a nearby planet every time you make a questionable alliance?"

"Dear God," she replied, shaking her head. "Is this still about the Borg? I thought we'd put that argument behind us."

"Because we worked together to foil the drone's inevitable betrayal of you?" He laughed. "What else could I do but help you succeed? Your 'alliance' nearly killed you, Kathryn, and your 'allies' were well on their way to assimilating Voyager. We both knew the crew would be assimilated very soon. You know it, I know it, the whole crew knows it. So does the drone. As it was, we escaped by the thinnest of margins, and we aren't out of the woods yet." He looked past her at the stars which hung motionless in the black velvet of space. Warp speed was impossible for the foreseeable future, and Borg space still loomed large in their rear sensors. "Right or wrong, you're the captain. I'll support you."

"Must it always come down to my rank, Chakotay?"

"On this ship, yes. You know it as well as I do."

He watched her shoulders slump before she sat down on the sofa and buried her face in her hands. For the first time, Chakotay realized how much the captain needed to consider her ill-fated alliance as a success--even though it was barely a draw. Salvaging what they could by freeing Seven of Nine, returning her to the human race, and garnering her allegiance was one way to validate the terrible risk Janeway had taken and to justify the horrible damage they'd endured. And, he had to admit, Seven could be a tactical advantage in the future, as well as a dangerous liability.

Janeway leaned her head back on the sofa cushion, staring blindly at the ceiling. He so often overlooked how burdensome her job could be, because most of the time she seemed to handle it with little visible stress. He considered how taxing it must be to know that every decision, even the most minor course correction, could lead them into danger, destruction, or death.

She sighed. "Being the captain is what makes me take the chances you find so irresponsible." When she finally looked at him, she seemed more thoughtful than before, the confrontational tone of her voice gone. "For me there can be no distinction between what I want and what I need. Home. I want to get this ship home. I need to get this ship home. That's what drives every decision I make, good and bad, Chakotay. Not pride. Not willfulness. Not egotism gone wild. Getting this ship and crew home—at whatever price it demands from me—is my only motivation."

He swallowed, knowing she spoke the truth. She never thought of herself, never put her needs first, never complained about the sacrifices of personal time and pleasure she willingly made. "I've never doubted your motivation, Captain."

"I hope not. If I'd made this pact with the devil for any other reason than the crew's best interest, you'd be negligent if you didn't relieve me of command."

"A pact with the devil?" He smiled at her. "That's a very vivid comparison."

"I'm afraid the jury is still out on whether it was a favorable agreement or not." She saw his smile and returned it. "You think I don't understand that we're still in danger? Only time will tell whether all the damage and disharmony we've suffered has been worth it."

He relaxed slightly, sensing a subtle change in the tone of their discussion. "We need to survive long enough to get home. We need to keep the ship in one piece. We need to keep our captain alive and healthy."

"Need, need, need. You know, Chakotay, I spend most of my time making sure that this crew's needs are met. I can hardly sleep because of our constant thirst for power. I dream about dilithium crystals. I haunt the passageways at night trying to think of ways to conserve energy. You'd be amazed at how accurately I could guess the content of our deuterium tanks at almost any moment of any day. Power translates into every necessity--life support, food, travel, protection, a steady pace toward home--all the essentials."

"I know about those midnight strolls." He smiled and walked to the upper level to take the chair near the sofa. "And I know what you mean about obsessing over the crew."

"It all falls on me, Chakotay, and that's the way I like it. That's the way it has to be. When I walk into the mess hall and everyone looks up from Neelix's latest leola root disaster, I know what they're thinking: 'It's her fault I'm eating this slop. If she had found a class m planet recently, we'd have something better to eat.' When we're dead in space, the way we are right now, and everyone is working frantically to get the ship back in working order before the next set of aliens tries to kill us, I know who they blame: 'If only the captain hadn't destroyed the Caretaker's array, we could be home right now.' When you tell me about the latest argument between B'Elanna and Joe Carey, and, yes, I did get wind of today's fight, I know you're going to say that I need to let up enough for some shore leave or another one of Neelix's mindless diversions."

Chakotay felt blush on his face and glanced down at the PADD in his hands. "I guess I can mark the next item of discussion off of the list--need for diversion."

Janeway smiled. "And yet, I find myself just as worried about their 'wants.' Maybe more so."

"Their wants? Like what?"

"What do we all want, Chakotay? We want to love and be loved in return. We want to be respected for doing a good job, and we want to be promoted, to be given more responsibility, more trust. So many of our crew does the same job day in and day out--with no hope for a significant change. I know they get bored and discouraged." She sighed deeply and stretched her arms along the back of the sofa. "Most of those wants are impossible out here. Affection? Advancement? Promotion to captain? Impossible. And so I focus on what I can provide--safety, nutrition, and a few more light years closer to home."

"And you see these intangible things--love, development, advancement--as wants, not needs?"

"Aren't they?" she asked, a look of confusion on her face. "Do we have any choice out here but to live without them?"

"They're needs just as much as food and water. You think too much like a scientist, Kathryn--you see the crew as people with physical needs first and foremost, when the spiritual and emotional needs are just as important, and maybe more so. 'Many a man is making friends with death . . . for lack of love alone.'"

Her eyes clouded. She was never comfortable when their conversation addressed that particular four-letter word--love. "That's a quote, right?"

"From a sonnet. I'll send it to you. The poem says that love isn't everything--it's the only thing. It makes everything else worthwhile."

"A paradox?" She groaned and shook her head. "Love? I thought we were talking wants and needs here, not luxuries."

"Are you implying that love is a luxury?" Chakotay grinned. "Tell me, Kathryn, is love a want or a need?"

"It isn't a requirement for life like air or food or water." She grew thoughtful. "But I can see that it's more than a want. Babies who are deprived of love and affection are permanently damaged emotionally. And adults who are stranded and alone for long periods of time hallucinate to create from their imaginations the companionship they crave."

"So love is a need?"

"No. Yes." She shook her head, gave him a wry grin, and walked to the replicator for a cup of coffee. She looked over her shoulder at him and at his nod replicated his favorite tea. "This one is on me," she said handing it to him. "Think of it as a peace offering."

"Thanks." He sipped the tea and began to relax.

"I know that the crew needs to feel like we're a cohesive unit. There needs to be a sense of family and a sense of belonging, even acceptance. Each one of us needs to know that he or she is as important as the next person. Is that the 'need' you're talking about? Because out here, that's about all we can hope for."

"The feeling of family we've created has helped, I think." He sipped the tea and sat back with a sigh. It occurred to him that a philosophical meeting of the minds might help them begin to heal the rift their earlier argument had caused. "When the Maquis joined the crew, you needed me as first officer, but you didn't really want me. Even though I knew that you counted on me to bring the crews together and that you needed my visible support, being needed that way wasn't enough--I very nearly quit because you didn't want me. I didn't feel like I belonged."

"I remember." She winced when she thought of how she'd left him out of the loop for so many months, turning to Tuvok for advice and input as she bypassed the man who was supposedly her second in command. "I've apologized for that."

"And I've accepted the apology." He gave her a wink and she smiled in obvious relief. "It was only after we got to know each other personally, once we truly understood each other, that I felt you wanted me to be your first officer."

The specter of New Earth hung between them. Kathryn stared into the black coffee in her cup as the memories of their six week exile flowed through both their minds. They never spoke of that time directly, but always in vague references that allowed them to keep their distance from the intimacy of their shared life on the planet. Their friendship had been forged there, and it had sustained them in the months since their return, but it was best left a silent shared memory.

She looked up at him, and he saw sincerity in her eyes. "You know I need you, Commander, and you know I want you to be my second in command . . . and my friend," she said finally, her voice still strained with emotion. "And you're wrong. Even if I don't need your approval, I want it. I want you to think well of me, I want you to like me, and that has, at times, made it very hard for me to go against your advice, even when I know that's what I must do." Her voice grew soft. "I would be so alone without you."

And there it was--a declaration of sorts. Her words shimmered between them like a mist glowing in the late afternoon sun. She wanted his friendship and his approval, even needed it--but she couldn't admit to wanting anything more than friendship and maintain the distance she needed to act as his commanding officer. Captains who make decisions aimed at pleasing their subordinates instead of completing their mission make notoriously bad leaders. They both had learned that fact the hard way.

Chakotay felt his lingering resentment for her unilateral decision dissolve away. It had been difficult for her to acknowledge this simple human weakness--that she needed and wanted a friend--and yet every person needs affection and acceptance, even the captain. Here he was, lecturing her about how love is a need not a want, while he ignored the fact that it was a need for her as much as it was for anyone else. Maybe even more so.

"I can't promise that I'll always agree with your decisions, Kathryn, because that's not what a first officer should do. But, even when I disagree with you, I know your decisions are made for the right reasons. And, when all is said and done, Chakotay will always be your friend, even if your first officer isn't."

Her eyes softened with relief. "Thank you. I know how hard it is to balance that official and personal loyalty, Chakotay." She glanced away, and he realized that both of them struggled to maintain that balance. "I need to know that our friendship will survive."

"I promise that our friendship will survive." She shifted on the sofa to look away from him and out into the darkness of space. He realized, for the thousandth time, the painful contradiction of their relationship. They could be great friends, and perhaps more than friends, if it weren't for the continual burden of maintaining the formality their command relationship demanded. And they could be an unparalleled command team except for the distraction of their intimate friendship and physical attraction. In the struggle for balance, Kathryn routinely and at great cost sacrificed her need for affection for the needs of the ship--a fact he tended to overlook. The last thing she needed was to feel alone.

The silence stretched into minutes, but it was the comfortable, peaceful silence of close friends. He sipped his tea, grateful for the serenity that their talk had brought him, and he hoped she felt the same reassurance that he did. These moments of profound connection occurred rarely, yet often enough to keep their partnership healthy and alive.

The doctor's voice came over the intercom and broke the tranquil moment. "Sickbay to Chakotay."

"Go ahead, doctor," he replied.

"It's time for your checkup. Report to sickbay as soon as possible."

"Acknowledged." Instinctively, he reached for the back of his neck where the power overload had blown out the neural transceiver and thrown him into unconsciousness. The pain had faded, but he was still troubled by the revulsion and fear he'd felt at being in such close contact with the Borg collective once again.

"Do you have a headache?" she asked, her voice soft. She was still turned away from him, but she'd seen him rub his neck in the window's reflection.

"More like a buzz than a headache. I feel like someone packed my head with mud."

"Then I wouldn't keep the doctor waiting." She turned and gave him a tentative smile, and he realized for the first time that she was just as uncertain as he was about keeping the drone on board. It was a calculated risk, and one that she believed was for the good of the ship, and yet, she was worried about the price the crew might pay for her gamble. Her unilateral decision was her effort to protect him from guilt and self-blame if the venture went terribly wrong, and he suddenly felt very sorry for her brave isolation. In so many ways, she was truly alone, willingly putting others ahead of her own wants and needs. "After what we've been through, Chakotay, I needed to know that our friendship would survive."

"Always." He set his empty mug on the table and stood up, wishing he could give her a comforting hug. "If you think that keeping the drone will help us get home sooner, Kathryn, let's try it, by all means."

"Then you think it's worth the risk to keep Seven on board?"

"If you believe it is, then so do I. I'll support you when you inform the staff."

"All right. Thank you." She was visibly relieved. "Once you see the doctor, get some rest. I need you to be at full speed tomorrow."

"Aye, Captain. Thanks for the tea and the talk."

She inclined her head. "My pleasure."

Later, when he returned to his quarters, he found the sonnet he'd remembered in the computer's database and sent it to her. As he read it again, he marveled at the truth it told and the beauty of its imagery. He wondered what would happen to a person who consistently denied herself love and connection the way Janeway had done. Would she someday become bitter and withdrawn? Would she succumb to depression and despair? Would she someday be "making friends with death" because of these years of loneliness and isolation?

He often wondered what Kathryn thought of the sonnet, but she never mentioned it, and he never found a time when he was comfortable in asking her about it. And yet the words stayed with him, and he knew that, as far as he was concerned, his years of friendship with Kathryn Janeway were infinitely more precious to him than food or peace.

_Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink  
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;  
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink  
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;  
Love cannot fill the thickened lung with breath,  
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;  
Yet many a man is making friends with death  
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.  
It well may be that in a difficult hour,  
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,  
Or nagged by want past resolution's power,  
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,  
Or trade the memory of this night for food.  
It well may be. I do not think I would._

_Edna St. Vincent Millay_

The End


	3. Night and Day 3: The Raven

Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters are the property of Paramount. I'm just borrowing them.

Night and Day will be a series of episode additions (not in chronological order) that lets us see the Kathryn/Captain differences from Chakotay's perspective.

Summary: This is an episode addition to "The Raven" in which Chakotay visits Janeway in her da Vinci holodeck program.

Night and Day 3

"The Raven"

Stardate: Unknown (Sometime during season four following "The Raven," in which Janeway takes Seven to her da Vinci holodeck program in an attempt to teach her sculpting and help develop her "humanity").

"You read all of these in one afternoon?" Chakotay looked at the pile of PADDs on Captain Janeway's desk with dismay. "It took me a day and a half to prepare them for you, and you read them in three hours?"

"Blame it on the fact that we're in orbit around a friendly planet for once," she replied with a grin. "It's amazing what can be done when you aren't interrupted. This stack is the one I've approved without comment. This stack has the reports that need more clarification."

"The engineering report," Chakotay sighed as he looked at the top PADD. "I tried to get Vorik to put in the detail I knew you wanted, Captain. With B'Elanna and Joe both on shore leave, I didn't have their expertise to rely on as a final review. I finally decided there was only one way he'd believe me--give them to you and have you kick them back."

"You'd think Vorik would know by now just how much scientific data I expect." She finished her coffee and stood up. "I'm going to the mess hall for a bite to eat and then to the holodeck. You'll be glad to know that I actually have a few hours of free time scheduled there this evening."

"The holodeck is better than nothing, but why not beam down to the planet? I enjoyed my time there, and I know you could use a break from the ship."

She shook her head. "I spent the first two days in orbit down on the planet being wined and dined during the trade negotiations, Commander. And the red-headed deputy minister was much too interested in personally showing me the sites, if you know what I mean."

Chakotay had seen the way the minister had drooled over the captain during her negotiating sessions and couldn't resist a gentle tease. "Have you once again snared a man's heart, Captain?"

"Let's just say that he found me much more captivating than I found him and leave it at that," she chuckled, a tiny blush appearing on her cheeks. "The fact is that I've had enough time on the planet. I prefer to stay on board and let everyone else take some time off." She led the way across the ready room and toward the bridge. "Let Vorik know that you're bringing me the updated engineer report as soon as he gets it up to snuff--even if you have to wake me up. Maybe that will inspire him to write a more complete report and be quick about it."

"Aye, Captain."

Hours later, Chakotay stood in an alcove in Engineering looking over the corrected report before downloading it for the captain's review. He'd been lurking on deck eleven awhile, long enough for some of the crew to forget about his presence, and he relished the opportunity to listen in on the idle conversation that gave him insight into the crew's morale.

Two members of the engineering staff were discussing their recent shore leave, especially the incredible similarity between the alien planet and earth, but their conversation had eventually drifted to the captain's habit of staying on board the ship rather than beaming to the surface.

"If you ask me, the captain needs a hobby," Crowder remarked. "All she does is work, work, work. This has to be the third time we've redone that report. And, besides, if her idea of fun is reading a report on the plasma injectors in the middle of the night, well, somebody needs to remind her of a few other midnight activities that are lots more fun."

"Are you volunteering, Rick?" McKee laughed. "She knows about the 'other' midnight activities."

"I was hoping she'd be on shore leave when I got back. Chakotay is much less picky about these figures. How can she pass up two days on a beach? Or in the mountains? Why stay on Voyager?"

"She beamed down there when we first arrived, and she's been on the holodeck the last few days. For all you know, she might indulge in some of those midnight activities while she's there. She wouldn't be the first."

"Nah. She doesn't strike me as the type. She probably programs some advanced science classes at the Vulcan Science Academy and sits there and takes notes. You'd think that eventually even an overachiever like the captain would want to have some fun."

The pair drifted away, and Chakotay just shook his head. He was always amazed at the crew's misconception of Kathryn Janeway's private side, and he wished she would relax a little and let them see her more often as just another member of the crew. She worked hard, true, but she knew how to have fun. She was the best velocity player on the ship, but played only against him or Seven. She loved music and literature, and even dabbled at painting, but those were solitary activities that no one saw her enjoying.

Despite the late hour--midnight--Chakotay whistled as he made his way out of engineering and toward the holodeck. If she hadn't ordered him to do so, he would never have considered interrupting her holodeck time to review an engineering report, especially when the computer informed him that her time was nearly over. He decided to deliver the report to her with the hope that he could walk her to her quarters for a cup of tea before bed.

As usual, Kathryn had no privacy lock on the program. Chakotay used his command code to gain access to the holodeck and walked into sixteenth century Florence. Well, actually, he found himself in Kathryn's idea of what Leonardo da Vinci's workshop might have resembled. He stood still as the doorway closed behind him so that the illusion was made complete. He had visited her here once or twice, but he had never had the opportunity to study it closely. He found himself looking around with great curiosity.

Many of the artifacts in the room were taken from Kathryn's study of da Vinci's completed work and the many notebooks he had left behind. There were copies of a few of his famous paintings leaning unframed against the wall--the Mona Lisa, for example. There were the skeletons of "flying machines" suspended from the ceiling, sculptures of disembodied arms and legs, and countless drawings of machines and statues spread across the work tables. There were a few ancient "robots" made of crude pulleys and ropes and countless other tools of the artistic and scientific trade on every available surface. It was a collection of potential creativity of unprecedented variety, and Chakotay appreciated for the first time how it would appeal to his captain's scientific and creative nature.

"Captain?" he said, looking around for some movement. "I brought the engineering report."

Silence. The quiet, restful atmosphere of the room began to seep into his consciousness. It was the middle of the night in Florence, probably the same time of day as on the ship, and the room was hazily illuminated by dozens of candles whose flames were guttering in the breeze from the open patio windows. He began to make his way toward the patio when he noticed a painting on an easel--one Kathryn must have been working upon because the paint was still wet. He picked up a candle and held it above his head in order to see the painting more clearly.

He was so shocked by the beauty of the scene that he nearly dropped the burning candle on his head. It was a painting of an eagle sitting on the edge of a cliff, leaning outward so far that Chakotay felt he should reach out to catch it. Each feather was carefully rendered, each eye so full of life that the eagle seemed to be a living, breathing being caught at a moment of fluid action, perhaps the very moment that the eagle had spied its prey and had begun its precipitous fall toward the earth. Even the rocks beneath the eagle's claws and the clouds in the blue sky above provoked his admiration from the perfect use of light and shadow. The water in the ocean far beneath the bird seemed to move with the constant surge of the tide, and Chakotay could feel the cold air blowing on his face from the high altitude of the picture. Then he realized that the breeze was coming from the open patio doors and not the image he was studying.

He stepped past the painting and found a second surprise awaiting him--a perfect miniature of Kathryn's dog, Molly, gazed at him serenely from the top of a sculpting table. He approached it reverently, appreciating the incredible detail and affection placed there by the artist. He picked up two smeared snapshots of the dog that laid curling amidst the discarded pieces of clay, but the statue was a far better likeness--it caught the intelligence of the breed and the attentive adoration that the animal would exhibit while gazing at its mistress.

He had to have it, but he knew how reluctant Kathryn was to share her artistic creations with others, claiming that her amateur efforts were hardly worth saving. He couldn't risk having her refuse to give it to him, so he quietly ordered the computer to scan the sculpture and save it for later replication in his quarters. He'd learned years earlier that it was easier to be forgiven than it was to get permission. If she someday found the sculpture among his possessions, he would simply throw himself on her mercy and count on flattery to aid in gaining her forgiveness.

Once that task was completed, he stepped onto the patio. A nearby cathedral's bells tolled midnight. The city was dark and sleeping all around him, the chill of late fall subduing outdoor activity. He stood there a moment appreciating the peaceful setting and listening to the sounds of a neighborhood at night. At first, the patio seemed as deserted as the workshop had been, but then a blanket that he thought had been left piled on a chaise lounge moved with a muffled moan.

"Kathryn?" he asked, shivering slightly at the cold. "Is that you?"

"Chakotay?" Kathryn Janeway emerged from the blanket and pulled it closer around her. Her hair was tousled and there were wrinkles in her cheek from whereher face had been resting on the chair. "I came out to watch the stars and fell asleep. What time is it?"

"Just after midnight. I didn't mean to wake you up, but you said you wanted the engineering report as soon as it was finished."

She sat up and yawned, holding out her hand for the PADD as he gave it to her. "I'm glad you woke me up. I was uncomfortable and freezing, but too lazy to get up and do something about it."

"Computer, raise temperature 10 degrees."

"Belay that, computer." She stood up and stretched. She had discarded her uniform tunic in favor of a smock that was smeared with paint and clay. "I have a few minutes left and I'd much rather enjoy the reality of the weather, if you don't mind. Let's warm up by the fireplace while I look through this report."

He followed her into the studio and noticed for the first time a carved fireplace in the wall on the far side of the room. In front of a merry fire sat two very comfortable looking overstuffed chairs with ottomans. He imagined Kathryn sitting there and having lengthy conversations with the holographic Leonardo da Vinci while sipping wine and watching the embers turn into ashes.

Kathryn pulled her blanket around her and gestured for him to take one chair as she curled up in the other, already focused on the details of the newly aligned plasma injectors. The fire provided a welcome heat, and Chakotay began to relax, gazing across the room at the painting of the poised and dangerous eagle and then looking back at his captain. He noticed that the color of the painting's rocks matched the smears on her smock exactly.

"Did you paint that?" he asked her, nodding toward the easel.

She looked up from the PADD and squinted at him. "Did I paint what?"

"Did you paint the eagle? I've never seen anything like it among da Vinci's work."

She frowned. "Oh, that? I painted it." Without further comment, she shrugged and went back to the report.

"That is no ordinary painting, Kathryn. I can sense the spirit of the eagle in its eyes. And I'm amazed at how you've caught the moment that it's falling into flight. I can almost see it moving."

"It was just an exercise," she replied. She didn't look up from the PADD as she stifled a yawn. "I like to take a vividly described poem or passage of literature and paint the image it creates in my mind. It helps me relax, for some reason."

"That picture comes from a poem?"

She sighed at his continued interruption and lowered the PADD to her lap. "'The Eagle' by Tennyson. Have you read it?"

"I don't think so."

Her eyes glazed over as she recited the poem to him. "'He clasps the crag with crooked hands; / Close to the sun in lonely lands/ Ringed with the azure world, he stands. / The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; / He watches from his mountain walls/ And like a thunderbolt he falls.'" She paused for a moment and then raised the PADD again. "The poem is short and sweet, but it creates a very vivid image, don't you agree? Painting it was just an artistic exercise, Chakotay."

"May I have it?"

"The poem?" She looked confused. "I'm sure it's in the computer's database."

"Not the poem, Kathryn, the painting. May I have it?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid that's impossible. It's completely holographic. It can't be taken off of the holodeck."

He thought about the statue he was planning to replicate, but decided not to tell her about his "borrowing" it. "I could have the computer replicate it."

"I've tried that, Chakotay, and it doesn't work with paintings. The illusion on the canvas requires the complex interaction of the hologrid to appear as you see it. If you try to replicate it, the brush strokes disappear, and so do the delicate interplay of colors. It just isn't the same." She returned to the report, unaware of the anger welling up inside her first officer.

"I can't believe that you'll just delete this painting!"

With a tiny huff, Janeway laid the PADD down again and gave him an amused look. "Chakotay, it's just a . . . ."

"Don't tell me it's 'just an exercise,' Kathryn," he interrupted her, his eyes flashing. Janeway stiffened at his vehement tone, but he didn't care if she thought he was overreacting. "It's breathtakingly beautiful--really. And the eagle is a sacred bird to my people--a divine, powerful spirit that symbolizes clear vision, success, and prosperity. I would treasure that painting, and it breaks my heart to think that it will be lost forever."

Her eyes grew serious at the passion in his voice. "Chakotay, I'm sorry. I don't mean to belittle your reaction to the picture. I'm delighted and flattered that you like it so much. In fact, if I had known that you might want it, I would have done it with real paint on a real canvas" She paused and gave him a wink. "With your replicator rations, of course."

He smiled at her joke and the tension between them lifted. "You know that you have real talent."

She settled back into the chair with a look of resignation. "Phoebe is the artist in our family."

"If she's a better artist than you are, she must be spectacular."

"I didn't know you were an art critic." Kathryn chuckled. "Is your annual evaluation coming up soon? If it is, I should warn you that flattery will get you nowhere."

"I'm not trying to flatter you. I'm amazed that someone with your obvious talent didn't study art instead of science."

"You know how it is, Chakotay," she sighed, shaking her head. "When I was growing up, my parents would offer me the choice of either space camp or an art class, and I never hesitated--science and math came first. We all pursue what we feel passionate about."

"And you found quantum physics more satisfying than creating beautiful paintings like this?"

"Well, math and physics were interests I shared with my dad. The artistic impulse comes from my mom's side of the family. And I guess painting and sculpting seemed inconsequential compared to the more practical applications of science. Art was a hobby to pursue in my spare time. As I grew older, each time I chose science over art, I narrowed my options. Soon the art classes weren't even mentioned as an option any more."

"That's sad, Kathryn, because you have a rare gift."

"If you say so. For many years I thought I could have science and art, too. I thought I was smart enough and efficient enough to have it all." She grew thoughtful. "But life isn't like that, Chakotay. It forces us to choose, and then it takes away the other options out of sheer spite. For a long time I resented giving up painting and sculpting, and I felt terribly mistreated by the way life narrows our opportunities. But, then, I discovered how much satisfaction I get from my career, and I settled for that. I guess I've mellowed." She stared blindly into the fire. "Someone said once that growing older is just a series of losses, one after the other. Maybe they're right."

"Well, when you do dabble in your hobby, you should do it for 'real,' not on the holodeck."

"Maybe once we're home," she replied, dismissing the suggestion out of hand. She wagged the PADD at him. "Right now my replicator rations are reserved for coffee, not canvas and paint. Now, if you don't mind, these injectors are simply more important than art. My primary task is to keep Voyager flying, not decorate its hull with pretty pictures."

Frustrated, Chakotay let the issue drop. While Janeway lost herself in the details of the report, he took the opportunity to move back to the easel and examine the painting more closely. He was so caught up in the beauty of the scene that he nearly jumped out of his skin with Janeway appeared at his side a few minutes later.

"Did you hear me, Chakotay?"

He turned and watched as she tossed her smock aside and pulled on the red Starfleet tunic. "No, I didn't. I'm sorry."

"I said that I'm going down to engineering to check a few of these figures for myself. Do you want to stay? If so, just shut down the program when you leave."

"I'll go, too." He turned back to the painting. "Just promise to leave this in the holomatrix? Maybe someday we'll have the capability to replicate it properly."

"Okay But if that happens, Chakotay, you'll have to thank a scientist for it, you know, not an artist." She gave him a crooked smile as she shut down the program.

When he returned to his quarters, he replicated the Molly statue and held it reverently in his hands. He recalled the captain's words. With each choice we make, our future is increasingly limited. It's only with the perspective of age that we realize how each decision brings with it the loss of a different future. A series of losses. One after the other.

How true that statement was. His decision to leave his home world and attend Starfleet Academy had narrowed the options that followed and deprived him of his family's support and involvement in his daily life. Later, his resignation from Starfleet and alliance with the Maquis had been just as limiting. It had meant that he'd never captain a Starfleet vessel and that he'd never enjoy the influence and prestige that a long career would offer him.

And while Voyager had restored some of that lost Starfleet career to him, it had done so at a price. He'd been essential in merging the two divergent crews and had become an important advisor and help to the captain, but his position as first officer had also created barriers between him and Kathryn Janeway that he deeply regretted. Accepting the position had allowed them to become a fine command team, but it had simultaneously prevented them from becoming anything more.

He held the sculpture in his hands, lovingly running his fingers over the delicate lines that had transformed a lump of clay into a perfect likeness of an Irish Setter. Kathryn had chosen science and math over art with the naïve belief that she could do it all. What a disappointment it must have been to realize that her choices had limited her from the true use of her artistic talent. No matter how resigned she was to her destiny, she clearly regretted that her gift had been so totally sacrificed on the altar of her Starfleet career.

He placed the sculpture on a shelf in his bedroom and stood studying it, deep in thought. Not for the first time, he admitted to himself that he regretted the taking the position of first officer, if only because of the barriers that had come with it. For a moment, he wondered whether he would make the same choice again if he knew at the time how onerous those barriers would become. He sighed and shook his head in resignation. There was no point in tormenting himself with idle speculation. Like Kathryn, he knew he must learn to live with his choices and focus on the decisions in his future, not on those that were forever beyond reach in the past. And yet . . . .

Perhaps someday . . . .

The End


	4. Night and Day 4: Resolutions

Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters are the property of Paramount. I'm just borrowing them.

Night and Day will be a series of episode additions (not in chronological order) that lets us see the Kathryn/Captain differences from Chakotay's perspective.

Summary: This is an episode addition to "Resolutions" and takes place three weeks after Janeway and Chakotay return to the ship from their 6-week exile to New Earth.

Night and Day 4

"Resolutions"

Stardate 49699.6 (Three weeks or so after the episode "Resolutions")

"Keep your arms up, Chakotay! Watch his right hand. Move, man! Move!"

Chakotay nodded and ducked to his left, his body drenched in sweat as his sparring partner continued a relentless attack of quick left jabs. He was well into the second hour of his holodeck boxing program and was exhausted by the grueling pace of the workout that was twice the length of his normal regimen. He had lifted weights, skipped rope, jogged, and punched the heavy bag and speed bag before he began an extended sparring session with an opponent of sufficient skill to test his proficiency. As the program came to a close, he was losing his strength. A well-placed left jab landed on his temple, making him see stars and fall back a few steps.

"You're dropping your right!" The voice came from the darkness beneath the ring, where his craggy manager sat watching the fight and shouting advice. "Chakotay! Your right!"

His arms were so tired that he could barely hold them up, and his knees felt like they were made out of rubber. He was too punch-drunk and weary to understand his coach's words, much less follow them. In spite of the headgear he wore and the safety protocols that he had lowered only slightly, the constant battering from his opponent and his increasing fatigue had a cumulative affect on his brain. Soon he would be unconscious on the mat because of an especially well-placed right cross or left uppercut, and the program would automatically shut down.

He looked forward to it.

This was how he'd spent every third night since he and Kathryn Janeway had returned from their idyllic exile on New Earth. He told himself that he needed this exercise to counteract the inactivity of shipboard life, especially after the hard manual labor he'd experienced on the planet, and that was the excuse he gave the EMH when he had his minor injuries treated after each workout session. Inactivity was only an excuse, however.

The truth was that the serving as Voyager's first officer brought with it an overwhelming pressure and loneliness that threatened to smother him. The work was so constant and repetitive that he could make out the crew's work schedules in his sleep and predict personnel problems by incredibly subtle signs, such as which crew members avoided each other in the mess hall each morning. He could see only two possible outcomes to his life--to be bored stiff for the time it would take for the ship to get home, or become victim to an injury or illness on the way. Live or die. There were times when death seemed like the preferable option.

"Taking your exercise program to this extreme is not rational," the doctorargued each time he'd treated his minor injuries. "Why are you punishing yourself?"

"It's not punishment. I find it hard to sleep when I'm not physically tired, and boxing makes me tired. It's also an excellent outlet for my emotions."

"And what emotions would those be, Commander?" The EMH looked at him with a thinly masked curiosity that he'd seen on the face of every single crew member since he and the captain had beamed back on board, a curiosity based on one question: how close had he and Kathryn Janeway been on that planet, anyway?

Chakotay resisted the urge to deactivate the doctor's program out of sheer spite. "Right now, doctor, the emotion I'm feeling is profound annoyance."

The EMH sniffed. "Well, whatever your reason is for this activity, I'll have to report these injuries to the captain." He'd snapped the medical tricorder closed with a loud click. "Again."

"Do what you have to do, Doc."

If the doctor had challenged him, Chakotay might have admitted that he wanted the captain to check up on him. He wanted her to pay some attention to him, even if it was to chew him out. The other reason for his depression, the one he couldn't even admit to himself, was the sudden and complete absence of Kathryn Janeway from his daily life. On New Earth he'd had Kathryn to himself, all day, every day. But, here? Here he saw her briefly once or twice a day, usually in group meetings where they exchanged a few formal words of greeting and then focused on the business at hand. He had gone from feast to famine, and he felt as if he were starving to death.

Two years earlier, his initial attraction to Kathryn had been an intense desire to possess her--the lust that Seska had so accurately diagnosed in him when they first blended the crews. But in the intervening months, that desire had gradually turned to friendship while they worked together on Voyager, and then to love on New Earth. And he'd had reason to believe that she might come to love him, too. When the ship had retrieved them and ended their growing intimacy, he had found that giving up that fragile hope for a relationship with her was more than he could bear.

He missed her. She had retreated to her ready room or her quarters for every free moment since their return, claiming that she had over two months of reports to catch up on in her off duty time. Whenever he asked her to join him for lunch, or for dinner, or even for a cup of coffee, she would just shake her head and say, "Later, Commander. Not today."

As if it wasn'tbad enough that their closeness on New Earth had been ruined, they seemed to have trouble withprofessional relationship, as well. If he was having trouble adjusting to these drastic changes in his personal life, then she must be, as well. But, he wasn't sure how she was coping because she dealt with him only when their positions required it and avoided him, and everyone else, the rest of the time.

"Chakotay! Wake up!" his coach pleaded. "Hang on just a few seconds more!"

Perhaps it was a combination of worry and exhaustion that made him drop his right hand again, but, whatever the cause, his opponent took advantage of it. Chakotay was stunned by a perfectly timed left jab and stumbled back against the ropes to keep his balance, shaking his head in a futile attempt to clear his vision.

"Get your hand up, Chakotay!" his manager growled. "Get your mind off of your woman troubles and keep your head in the ring."

Woman troubles? Chakotay was so surprised by the old man's words that he dropped both arms and stared into the dim shadows of his corner. He never saw the right cross that decked him. He didn't hear the referee's eight-count. Flat on his back, his arms spread wide on either side of him, he slipped into blessed oblivion as the holodeck automatically deleted the rest of the characters in the gym. He would slide from unconsciousness into sleep for the final minutes of his holodeck time, and then he would trudge unsteadily to sickbay before returning to his quarters for some much needed sleep. It was part of his routine.

He hadn't noticed the captain when she'dslipped into a dark corner of the gym a few minutes earlier. He hadn't seen her eyes widen in horror when he seemed toallow his opponent free access to hit him with a powerful blow. He didn't hear her cry out in horror as his head snapped back nor did he know that she hid her face as he wheeled slowly and gracefully in his fall, crashing with a groan to the mat where he lay silent and unmoving during the eight count, a slow thread of blood oozing from his nose and down his cheek. He didn't see her panicked race to the ring to check on his condition or the tears she brushed away as she reached his side.

Some moments later, he became aware of a cool towel bathing his face and opened his eyes, squinting up at the silhouette of a woman who blocked the glaring lights that illuminated the ring. His realized that his head gear had been removed and a rolled towel had been placed under his head. A low sound buzzed in his head. A voice.

"Can you hear me? Chakotay?"

"Kathryn?" he mumbled, blinking his eyes as her face came into focus. She knelt over him, a look of distress on her face. "You're here?"

"The doctor told me about what you've been doing, but I thought he must be exaggerating. I had to come see for myself."

Chakotay struggled to sit up, and she helped him, slipping an arm behind his shoulders and keeping a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "You had no right to intrude on my privacy without my permission," he complained, burying his face in the cool, damp towel she handed him. "I'm not really hurting anyone, not even myself."

"How can you say that? I saw what happened here." She paused, and then looked away as she remembered how his body had crashed, unconscious, onto the mat. "I'm sorry, Chakotay. We're both suffering, but it's my fault that we haven't talked about . . . our readjustment to the ship. I wish we had a counselor on board."

He closed his eyes, considering what he would say to a counselor, how he would characterize his struggle. "I wish we had a counselor, too. I feel more alone on Voyager, more isolated and depressed, than I did when I shared an entire planet with just one other person."

"So do I," she whispered. She crossed her legs and sat next to him. "Why is that?"

He gave her a level look. "It's more than the usual separation you feel between the captain and crew, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"Maybe it's because the crew is watching our every move. They think . . . they imagine that we . . . ." He stopped, unable to put into words the intimacy that the crew assumed had occurred between them—a man and a woman supposedly stranded alone on a planet for the rest of their lives.

She blushed slightly. "They do, don't they?"

"Being the command team 24/7 is enough of a burden without this added scrutiny. And our avoidance of each other is just adding to their speculation."

"You've heard about Tom's betting pool?"

He nodded, miserable. "I don't know whether to ignore it or order him to stop it."

"And round and round it goes. It's a no-win situation." She sighed, looking around at the deserted gym. "This helps you cope?"

"It helps me sleep. I miss the hard physical work, and I get rid of a lot of physical tension this way." He dabbed the towel at the blood oozing slowly from his nose. "They say that physical exertion is a good way to deal with depression."

"Depression." She nodded. "Of course, that's what it is."

He glanced at her. "What do you do all those hours when you're alone, Kathryn? Are you really reading reports twenty four hours a day?"

"Not every minute, no," she admitted. "I also sleep . . . for hours and hours at a time . . . and then I wake up tired and fight exhaustion all day."

"Sleeping that much is a sign of depression, Kathryn." A wave of dizziness hit him and for a moment he thought he might throw up. He fell back on the mat with a groan.

"You need to see the doctor. Computer, two to beam to sickbay."

She stood in the background as the doctor treated his injuries, but she never looked Chakotay in the eye, never cracked a smile at the doctor's banter. Once his injuries were treated, she accompanied him to his quarters, ordered him to sit down on the sofa, and brought them both a hot beverage from the replicator.

"How long did you watch?" he asked as he took a tentative sip of the steaming tea, his newly healed lip still sensitive to heat.

"Ten minutes." She studied him over the rim of her mug. "You removed the safety protocols."

"I didn't 'remove' them, I just relaxed them a little." He shrugged. "I always do that when I'm boxing. Sparring is a waste of time if you can't feel the opponent's punch."

"Feel his punch? He knocked you out."

"It wasn't that bad. It isn't a concussion. I lost consciousness briefly because of a combination of exhaustion and the cumulative affects of a few decent blows, that's all."

"Sparring until you pass out can't possibly be therapeutic." She frowned and picked up a PADD she'd brought with them from sickbay. "The doctor says this has become a habit with you. He calls it 'a pattern of self-abuse in which the patient pursues physical exertion and bodily punishment until he is rendered briefly unconscious.'"

Chakotay smiled. "That's not what my mom would call 'self abuse.'"

Kathryn narrowed her eyes, her temper barely under control even though she knew his comment was meant to be a joke. "I'm worried about you, Chakotay. This is the fifth time you've done this since . . . ."

"Since we returned to the ship." He finished the sentence for her, surprised to hear the resentment in his voice. "Look at me, Kathryn. Except for being tired enough to sleep, I'm no worse for the wear. A little dizzy, maybe, but not injured."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think there's a counselor in the Federation that would tell you to box until you pass out in order to relieve depression."

"At least I'm willing to admit that I'm depressed and am trying to do something to deal with it. At least I'm trying to resume the full range of my responsibilities. I'm not hiding in my office or my quarters day after day. "

Kathryn stared at him, her eyes flashing. "Are you implying that I'm not dealing with it? How I handle the stress of our returning to the ship is no one's business but my own, Commander."

"I wish that were true. Yourattitude affects every single member of the crew. I'm just afraid you aren't dealing with it at all, Captain. Any decent counselor would tell you that you need to accept your problems and then work through them."

"And that's what this . . . this beating you endure every third day is doing for you? Helping you work through this problem?"

"Physical release is a recognized way to vent one's frustrations. But withdrawal and isolation? Hours and hours of sleep?" He wanted to shake her. "Haven't you seen a counselor before?"

"Whether I've received counseling or not is none of your damned business." She slammed her coffee mug down with such force that it fell over, spilling coffee across the table's smooth surface. They both ignored it. "I do quite well by simply putting things behind me, Chakotay--disastrous away missions, bad command decisions, needless deaths, stupid, careless mistakes. It does no good to drag them out in the light of day and get upset all over again." She took a deep breath. "Just keep going forward, that's what works for me. Don't look back."

He realized what she said was true, that she habitually tried to put disasters "behind her," as she'd said, and that she did so with varying degrees of success. She'd dealt with many of their crises in the last two years by simply forging ahead relentlessly, and he'd worried from day one about what would happen when that habit caught up with her.

He took some comfort in knowing, however, that she was just as conflicted at their return to the ship as he was. "So you're upset at leaving New Earth?"

"Of course, I am. Who would want to leave an idyllic planet and step back into this god-forsaken job?" She stood up and began to pace. "I was just beginning to relax for the first time in two years when the ship returns and I was thrust back into the toughest job in the universe--for the next seventy years!" She shook her head and began to mop up the spilled coffee with a napkin. "For me it works best to pretend New Earth never happened, to simply close that door and move on with my life. Once I get through this period of adjustment, I'll be my old self again. Just let me follow the process that works for me."

"I will on one condition--allow me to continue my boxing regimen."

She glared at him a moment and then chuckled. "You aren't going to let me get away with this, are you?"

"Nope."

Shaking her head in resignation, she knelt down and began cleaning the table in earnest. Chakotay replicated some cleaning supplies, and for the next few minutes they worked together to wipe up the spill. When the table was clean, Kathryn squeezed the coffee from her rag back into her mug, looking up at him with a twinkle in her eye. "It's a sin to waste good coffee."

Chakotay laughed, and soon Kathryn was laughing along with him. The ridiculousness of her gesture seemed to get them past their disagreement, because they were soon in tears, and the tension evaporated from the room.

"Oh, Chakotay, I needed that," Kathryn said, sitting down on the sofa beside him and drying her eyes. "You know, I've missed your sense of humor these last few weeks."

"I'm still here, Kathryn. I haven't gone anywhere."

"But it isn't the same." She leaned against the cushions, tears of sorrow glistening in her yes. "They're watching us every minute, as you say."

"But, Kathryn, we have nothing to hide. Nothing happened down there that they can't know about." He took her hand. "I've missed you, too. We can be friends, even if we are captain and first officer. We can salvage that much, if we try."

Her voice was a whisper. "Yes. Friends. I'd like to save at least that much from our weeks together."

At least that much. Her words confirmed for him that they had, indeed, been headed toward an intimate and loving partnership on New Earth, but he quickly pushed the idea aside. It was hard enough to lose their solitude and privacy; he wasn't sure either of them could bear knowing that they could have been lovers. "Kathryn, maybe we can find a way to help each other survive. Instead of my boxing program, we can play velocity, and that way we'd both get some exercise."

"True. As you say, the exercise would be therapeutic." She thought a minute. "I could start eating in the mess hall a few times a week."

"And I could start making personal reports to you at the end of alpha shift, the way I did . . . .before."

She relaxed and looked down at their hands, the fingers laced together. "We can do it, Chakotay. We have no choice."

"The crew needs to see you as much as I do. They went through hell to get us back, and they think you're sorry they did."

"Oh, it's not returning to Voyager that I regret." She took her hand from his and stood, walking to his desk where she toyed with a stack of PADDs, idly sorting through them. "Eventually, I would've grown restless on New Earth, Chakotay. I really can't see myself stuck on a single planet for the rest of my days. But those six weeks of 'camping' with you?" She turned to face him. "I feel like I've really come to know you and trust you as I have few people in my life, and I regret that as your captain I have to distance myself from you again." She held her breath, and then seemed to deflate slightly as she exhaled. "I hope you understand."

This had been difficult for her to say, and he sensed that she'd be hurt if he didn't reply with equal sincerity. He had a feeling that there would be few times when she wouldwillingly discuss their time on New Earth with him, and so he said the one thing he wanted her to remember most. "I plan to do all I can to help you, Kathryn, from here on. I told you that before we returned to the ship and I meant every word."

She nodded, typically unwilling to revisit their last hours on the planet. "So, no more boxing matches until you're unconscious?"

"No more. And you agree to get out more, to let the crew see you?"

"Yes. I'll do that."

He decided to press his luck. "Will you eat lunch with me tomorrow in the mess hall?"

"All right. And when you're feeling better, we'll play a few games of velocity." She gave him a weak smile, and he knew she was about to retreat to her quarters again. "I'm glad we had this talk. But. . . ." She took a step toward the door. "Even though you claim it would help to talk about New Earth, I can't dwell on it, Chakotay. I have to put it behind me and forget about it. Right or wrong, that's my way."

"All right. But if you ever decide that you need to talk this over, this or anything else, I'm here for you."

She paused just short of triggering the automatic door opening. "I apologize for invading your privacy on the holodeck. Truth be told, I think I was looking for a reason to approach you about this."

"Apology accepted. I think my actions were a call for help."

"Right now, both of us need some sleep." She took another step, and the door opened. "I'll see you at the morning briefing, and I look forward to lunch."

"So do I, Captain. Good night."

He heard her reply as the door closed behind her. He sat motionless, staring at the door. He wondered how long she could bury these hurts and disappointments before they overwhelmed her. She carried so much responsibility on her shoulders, bearing it all on her own because she believed that was what the captain had to do. The captain has to be the one constant on the ship--like the north star, visible and unchanging.

He buried his face in his hands. Despite her brave words to the contrary, she hadn't put her worries behind her. She fretted about the dangers they faced in the Delta Quadrant, about the need to return the crew to their families, about injuries, illnesses, and deaths, about finding a shortcut home, and about keeping the ship in one piece without the help of proper maintenance and overhaul facilities. When potential solutions to their exile were cruelly torn from them, she reacted with little more than a sigh and an order to resume course. Such emotional stoicism might work in the short term or in the Alpha Quadrant, where she had other avenues of psychological relief, but here, in the Delta Quadrant, it was just a matter of time before those repressed emotions brought her to her knees.

He wished they had a counselor on board to help her. The repression of volatile emotions could, like an infection, fester and spread until they suddenly immobilized a person, often at the worst possible moment. When, and if, that happened to Kathryn, he would have to help her work through it any way he could, any way she would let him. If she would let him.

The end


	5. Night and Day 5: Workforce

Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters are the property of Paramount. I'm just borrowing them.

Night and Day will be a series of episode additions (not in chronological order) that lets us see the Kathryn/Captain differences from Chakotay's perspective.

Summary: This is an episode addition to "Workforce" and takes place a few days after the ship resumes course for the Alpha Quadrant.

Night and Day 5: Workforce

by mizvoy

Stardate 54626.4 (Shortly after the crew returns from Quarra in "Workforce")

Chakotay picked up a piece of engineering equipment that had rolled under the captain's dining table and looked at it in confusion. "What are you doing with this Quarran plasma relay, Kathryn?"

"Oh, that." Kathryn appeared in her bedroom doorway wearing a fresh turtleneck and vigorously brushing her hair. "I've been meaning to recycle it. Just leave it on the table, and I'll take care of it before we leave."

They had finished their shift on the bridge a few minutes earlier, pausing long enough in her quarters for the captain to freshen up before they attended the impromptu party in the mess hall. That morning the doctor had reported that every crew member was finally normal again, their altered memories fully restored. With that accomplished and with Quarra several days behind them, the crew had decided it was time for a celebration.

"I never knew you to be a collector of this sort of junk," Chakotay said, shifting the device from hand to hand and raising his voice so she could hear him in her bedroom. "Worn out alien engineering equipment?"

He heard her laugh. "Lovely, isn't it? Well, the Kathryn that lived on Quarra collected such things, not me." She reappeared fully dressed and glanced at the clock. "We're still a few minutes early. Do we have time for a cup of coffee before we leave?"

"Sure, but make it tea for me." He watched as she replicated the drinks and joined him on the sofa.

She sipped the coffee and then relaxed into the cushions. "You haven't asked me about my experiences on Quarra."

Chakotay shrugged, pretending to be uninterested when, in fact, he was eaten up with curiosity. "I've learned not to pry into your life. When and if you want to discuss something, I'm here to listen. You know that."

"And I appreciate that, I really do." She took a longer sip of her coffee and smiled in satisfaction. "You know, I can't believe some of the things I did on Quarra."

Chakotay schooled his features, pretending that he didn't know what she was talking about. "Like what?"

"Like Jaffen." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "You must've been surprised to find me moving in with someone just a few days after arriving on the planet."

"Surprised isn't the word for it," he admitted. "It's been six years since you were in a relationship, though, and I thought you might be lonelier than you realized."

"Loneliness had nothing to do with it, Chakotay. I think my uncharacteristic behavior was just a side effect of they way the Quarran doctors manipulated my memories."

"You mean you were no longer inhibited by your command position and Starfleet protocols."

"That was part of it. But I don't usually make commitments like that so quickly, no matter what."

He nodded. "You don't seem like the type who'd be interested in a casual relationship."

"You're right. I've had two, maybe three serious affairs in my entire life, and only after getting to know the other person very well." She leaned over and picked up the relay, turning it slowly as she talked. "My behavior was caused by more than just being away from Voyager and Starfleet protocols."

"In what way?"

"I wasn't my real self. The way they manipulated my memories effectively modified my basic personality. I no longer had the same personal history." She set the relay on the table and then picked up the mug, looking into its depths as if she were looking into a crystal ball. "Who we are is the result of all of our life experiences, don't you think?"

"Yes, I do, whether we're conscious of it or not."

She sat back and gave him a long, contemplative look. "So, what happens if you no longer remember the events that are integral to the makeup of your personality?" Her eyes were blazing with intensity. "What would you be like, Chakotay, if you no longer had the memories of your family's murder? What if you were unaware of your anger toward the Federation and Starfleet for their failure to help your family? What if someone made you believe you'd never left Starfleet for the Maquis?" She put down the mug and studied his face a moment longer. "Wouldn't that alter your entire personality?"

"I guess it would." He spent a moment trying to imagine how different he would be under those circumstances. "Frankly, I have a hard time imagining what that kind of forgetfulness would be like."

"I did, too, until I returned from Quarra." Kathryn studied the relay, picking it up and absently running a finger around and around its fittings. "In some ways, that forgetfulness was a great relief."

He tried to catch her eye, but realized that she was not going to look at him. He remembered the woman he'd met on the planet, the one who'd refused to believe that she'd ever command a starship--because it would be too much responsibility. He'd thought that at the time that the Kathryn he knew would never say such a thing. "So they erased some critical memories from your past?"

"Yes, they did, Chakotay. I didn't remember Earth accurately, for one thing. I thought it was barren and overpopulated with most of its people anxious to find gainful employment elsewhere. I knew nothing of Starfleet. And, for the first time in years, I was relieved of a burden of guilt I've carried night and day, a debt that I've spent a lifetime repaying." She smiled wistfully. "I think losing that guilt made me giddy with joy and unusually impulsive. But the Kathryn Janeway you met on Quarra wasn't real, and she certainly wasn't me."

He watched her closely, wondering what guilt she could be talking about. Was it possible that she was still worried about stranding Voyager in the Delta Quadrant? Did she believe she owed the crew a lifetime of repayment for disrupting their lives? Or was it some other disaster in her life, something she had alluded to before but that he had no knowledge of? "I hope you aren't still agonizing about destroying the Caretaker's array."

"I still obsess about that now and then," she said, looking up and giving him a shy smile. "But this was something that happened years ago, early in my early Starfleet career." Her eyes drifted past him, focusing on some invisible point in the distance. "A day doesn't go by that I don't think of it. In some ways, having that familiar burden back again is comforting to me. It's so much a part of who I am."

"I can't believe you said that. You're happy to feel guilty again?"

"I didn't mean for it to sound quite that bad. I meant that the knowledge of what happened is something I've lived with for so long that I've come to see it as a normal part of me. It's a part of my life I carry with me all the time."

"I can't imagine that you have anything so terrible in your past, Kathryn. You're one of the most decent people I've ever met."

As Kathryn's eyes filled with tears, she picked up the empty mug and took it and the plasma relay to the recycler. "I'm glad you feel that way, Chakotay. Your loyalty means a lot."

Chakotay grew thoughtful, once again curious about this mysterious event in her past. "Would it help to talk about what happened so long ago? You know I'm a good listener."

"You are an excellent listener. Talking about it helped at first. I've told the story to a few counselors, and I've confessed my sins to the involved parties, but it's hard to forgive myself. I decided long ago that I would just have to learn to live with it. It isn't always easy to do that, of course." She placed the items in the recycler and watched them dematerialize. "I'm not complaining. And, no, I don't need to talk about it."

Chakotay wished that guilt could be as easily and completely recycled as the mug and relay had been. "You aren't broken up about leaving Jaffen behind?"

"You know, he actually volunteered to come along with us, but we decided against it--mutually." She blushed and looked away. "I did like him, though. He was a good companion, although I'm terribly embarrassed about the way I rushed into living with him. I don't habitually make commitments like that with strangers, but with Jaffen . . . I didn't even look before I leaped."

He remembered the shock and the sense of betrayal he'd felt at seeing her with the man. When she'd told him they were moving in together, he'd felt a physical pain in his chest. He took a deep breath. "Maybe you two were a good match? Maybe it was love at first sight?"

"Well, I trusted him pretty quickly, but I'm not sure I'd call it love." She laughed and shook her head. "I felt comfortable with Jaffen, for some reason. I'm wondering, now, if I trusted him because he reminded me of you."

Chakotay nearly choked on his tea. "What?"

"Well, he resembles you physically--tall, well-built, dark hair. He had a wicked sense of humor. He was easy to work with, and he was very tolerant of my idiosyncrasies, like my inability to cook, just as you are."

Chakotay still couldn't believe her words. "Because he reminded you of me made you comfortable enough to move in with him? But, Kathryn, you had no recollection of me. Your reaction to me when I approached you on the planet proved that."

"Well, I think you're wrong. At the time I didn't remember you specifically, of course. It's just that as I think back on my behavior now, I can't help but wonder if I didn't subconsciously make the connection. I know I trusted you and wanted to believe you."

"No you didn't." He felt angry, and his voice revealed his bitterness. "You wasted no time reporting me to the authorities."

"Oh, Chakotay, I'm so sorry that happened. My first instinct was to believe you, but Jaffen talked me out of it. Turning you in was his idea, although I should have stopped him. He saw you as a threat, maybe because he could tell that I was fascinated by you and intrigued about your story of our kidnapping. He was afraid you'd take me away from him, and he used my affection for him to keep me from trusting you."

Chakotay relaxed his hands, which had been in tight fists, and gave her a smile. "I know turning me in was his idea; Jaffen told me himself that he did it, because he was afraid it might damage our working relationship." He wondered if Jaffen had felt threatened by his connection with Kathryn; for some perverse reason, he hoped so. "I did take you away from him."

"Yes, but not in the way he expected." She walked to the mirror and checked her uniform. "I don't regret coming back to Voyager, Chakotay. Believe that."

"I do believe it. I'm just sorry that in the process I deprived you of companionship and burdened you with guilt."

"Well, I'm not sorry. The 'real' Kathryn would never have become involved with Jaffen in the first place. Believe that, too. And the guilt--well, that's my burden to bear." She glanced at the clock. "It's getting late."

He stood up to offer her his arm. "Shall we join the celebration?"

"Do you think they've started without us?" She laced her arm though his and smiled up at him.

"When has our absence ever slowed down their fun?"

Hours later, as the party wound down, Chakotay leaned against the bar and watched Kathryn interact with her crew. Her vivacity and enthusiasm clearly showed that she was happy to be back on Voyager, yet he sensed a formality and an aloofness in her manner that had been totally missing in the Kathryn he'd met on Quarra--and totally normal in the captain of Voyager.

He thought about their earlier talk. He'd been flattered when she told him that her attraction to Jaffen might have been influenced by her memory of their friendship, but he also suspected that the chance for them to be romantically involved had passed. After seven years, they had a wonderful, intimate bond that had proven more durable than he'd ever expected it to be, and he'd come to value her friendship and counsel as constants in his life.

He wished, though, that she would tell him about the incident in her past that haunted her. She'd made vague references to it in their seven years together, but she'd also made it clear that she was unwilling to discuss it in detail. As far as he knew, his ignorance of this trauma had not damaged his understanding of her basic personality. While he respected her wish for privacy, he had taken the liberty of asking some of the crew about it--specifically Tom Paris and Tuvok--only to receive vague answers in reply. Both men had speculated that losing her father might have seriously affected her, but they were unaware of the circumstances surrounding his death. Their ignorance on the subject and the absence of any information in the computer's database made him think that whatever had happened was still highly classified--compounding an already tantalizing mystery.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when the captain appeared beside him. "Ready to call it a night, Commander?"

"Yes, I am, Captain. I've been waiting to escort you back to your quarters."

"I'm glad for the company." She gave him a crooked grin, but he could see the stress and fatigue in her eyes. It had been a long day, and the evening's celebrations had added to her weariness. He hoped she would relax and chat with him as they walked through the ship, but when they entered the turbolift, she moved to the far side and crossed her arms over her chest, closing her eyes in exhaustion.

He saw the familiar troubled look in her eyes, a look he had always attributed to her worry over the ship and to the strain of her impossible position as captain. Now, he suspected that it was alsoa reflection ofthe ribbon of guilt that that ran much deeper in her life, that was, as she had clearly stated earlier, a basic element of her personality.

The sorrow he sensed in her was the burden of a debt she could never repay.

The End


	6. Night and Day 6: The Void

Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters are the property of Paramount. I'm just borrowing them.

Night and Day is a series of episode additions (not in chronological order) that lets us see the Kathryn/Captain differences from Chakotay's perspective. This is the final episode addition of the series.

Summary: This is an episode addition to "The Void" and takes place a few days after the ship resumes course for the Alpha Quadrant.

Night and Day 6: The Void

by mizvoy

Stardate 54555.0 (Just following Voyager's escape from the subspace funnel in "The Void")

"You were right."

Kathryn Janeway looked up from the PADD she'd been reading during breakfast and smiled into the face of her first officer. "That's rule number one, isn't it? 'The captain is always right'?"

Chakotay grinned. "And the second rule is, 'When you suspect the captain might bewrong . . . '"

"'. . . refer to rule number one.'" She laughed and pushed the chair away from the other side of the table with her foot. She was seated at a secluded location near the mess hall's huge windows, and so far her crew had respected her desire for privacy by leaving a few empty tables around her.

Chakotay sat down. "Sticking to our Starfleet rules, more or less, was the key to escaping from the Void, just as you insisted. In fact, those rules have helped us survive so far."

"So far." She watched him shovel a spoonful of green gelatinous goo into his mouth and winced. "You actually eat that stuff?"

"I have to eat something, and I can't stomach the pleka egg soufflé. Too slimey. And the smell?" He shivered in distaste, and then looked around the table for her tray. "What did you have for breakfast?"

She held up her coffee cup and sighed. "I told Naomi earlier that I'd check my replicator rations and see if I could afford to have toast in my ready room." She sighed and gave him a mournful look. "But . . . ."

"Let me guess: you want me to loan you the rations."

"Well, it is the end of the month, and I am running a little short." She winked and rolled the mug in both hands as she watched him eat. Then she leaned toward him, speaking in a quiet voice, "You know, there are times, Chakotay, when I wonder if we'll survive this adventure of ours."

"Only 'times'?" He laughed. "Kathryn, I've had my doubts about it since day one. The only thing that's kept this ship flying is your limitless optimism."

"Well, I think I'm about to reach the end of my limitless optimism."

"Never." He put down his fork, took a long sip of rakta juice, and studied her face. "You won't let yourself do that. I've decided that you're genetically programmed for success."

"If you mean I'll put every ounce of myself into finding a way to succeed, you're right. But, we've been out here nearly seven years, Chakotay. Seven long years."

"How do you do that?"

"What? Count to seven?" She began to tick off the years on her fingers.

Chakotay rolled his eyes and nodded in appreciation as she held up the seventh finger. "Impressive. No, I meant how do you keep finding the intestinal fortitude to keep this ragged crew on task and moving in the right direction?"

"Well, I'll tell you a secret." She made a show of looking over both shoulders before she proceeded to speak quietly. "It helps to make the crew focus on the little steps, just think about whatever small jobs they have to accomplish today. If I can make them feel as if they're succeeding at the little steps, they might just lose track of how many of those little steps the whole journey is going to take."

"Ah, yes. 'A journey of 70,000 light years begins but with a single parsec,'" he paraphrased.

She laughed and sat back, draining the coffee from her mug. "Exactly. Plus, I owe too many people too much to let myself consider giving up."

"You mean the crew?"

"I mean the crew, their relatives, my own family, Starfleet."

He looked around the mess hall, now slowly emptying as the beginning of alpha shift approached. "And what if you fail?"

She narrowed her eyes and frowned. "But I won't fail."

"You just said that you're running of that limitless optimism."

"Just because I give up hope doesn't mean I'll stop trying, Commander."

"It doesn't?"

"Our situation in the Void was hopeless, wasn't it? We had been pulled out of normal space into that tiny universe and immediately attacked by enemies. Most of our supplies had been stolen in the first ten minutes after our arrival, before we even knew what had hit us. Our potential allies, who had been trapped in there for years, kept telling us that the idea of working as a team would never succeed. But we knew better."

"You knew better, Captain. Tuvok and I were ready to become mercenaries, remember?"

She patted his hand. "You just needed to be reminded of who you were."

"Well, thanks to you, we were quickly reminded of our Starfleet principles." He looked at her in admiration. "That's what I'm talking about, Kathryn. We owe a debt of gratitude for being so tireless in your optimism."

"Well, you're welcome." Kathryn laughed, gathered her PADDs, and stood up. "But, it's not optimism you see in me, Chakotay. I've made a commitment that I'm determined to keep--no matter what the cost."

"Well, whatever it is--optimism, commitment, obstinacy, pig-headedness." He smiled as she made a face. "I don't believe you'll ever run out of it."

"Keep thinking that about me, Commander. The knowledge that you believe in me may be the one factor that helps me finish this damned journey . . . in thirty or forty years." She gave him a wink. "See you later."

He watched her make her way across the mess hall to the recycler, chatting with a few of the crew still lingering over their meals, laughing at a few humorous remarks, and then quickly slipping through the doors to start her shift on the bridge--and, if she could scrape together enough rations, a piece of dry toast.

He smiled to himself. Kathryn was a complex and fascinating character who never ceased to amaze him. Her attitude set the tone for the entire ship. She knew that fact as well as he did, but she was much more conscious of it than he was--it was the cardinal rule of her life, her rule number one: the captain is always the captain. And when, for a moment, she thought she might be able to put the rank aside and be treated the way any other member of the crew was, she referred to her cardinal rule number one.

Chakotay had known dozens of captains in his lifetime, and there were only a handful that hadn't gained his respect. But Kathryn Janeway was the best captain he'd ever seen, inspiring loyalty, admiration, and even love from her crew. She put her all into her job, and he knew, no matter what she said, she would never waiver on getting this crew home as long as she was alive. And she didn't ask for or expect any thanks for her tireless dedication.

In fact, Chakotay believed she might be too dedicated. Everyone, even a Starfleet captain, has to know when to be selfish, when to draw the line and rethink whether the end really justifies the means. But, he thought, shaking his head sadly, Kathryn Janeway acknowledged no such limit to her devotion. He wondered, again, what made her so single-minded, what made her toil endlessly toward her goals without regard for what the personal consequences would be.

He picked up his tray and started to stand up, only to find Naomi Wildman standing patiently at his elbow, waiting to catch his attention. "Commander," she said, looking up at him with her big blue eyes, "Could you do me a favor?"

A few minutes later, Chakotay sat down beside the captain on the bridge.

"Commander," she said, glancing up from the console they shared. "I thought you were going to begin the day with Neelix in hydroponics."

"I'm on my way. I just came by to give you this." He handed her a PADD that contained one hundred replicator rations. "These should purchase your breakfast toast for the next few days."

Her eyes widened. "Are all these yours?"

"At this time of month? You know better than that." He smiled. "They're a 'thank you' from the crew."

She glanced around the bridge, taking in the bridge crew hard at work, before she looked back at him. Her eyes glistened with tears. "A thank you for what?"

He shook his head in amazement. "You really don't know?"

She looked away from him, unable to speak for a minute, and then her voice was a whisper, "I can't take these, Chakotay, not for just doing my job."

"You might as well take them, Kathryn, because I can't give them back. I have no idea who they came from. Word got out at breakfast that you needed a few credits for toast. Later, when I was leaving the mess hall, Naomi brought me the PADD and asked me to deliver it to you."

She looked down at the PADD again, allowing her hair to swing forward and hide her face--and her emotions--from him. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Just enjoy your toast."

She brushed her face with her hand, he guessed to wipe away a tear, and then she gave him a brave look, her eyes still damp. "I think I'll do that right away, Commander. I'll be in my ready room. You have the bridge."

"Yes, Captain." He gave her a reassuring smile, truly gratified that the crew had expressed their affection for her in a way she would enjoy. "I'll stick around for a few minutes before I meet Neelix in the cargo bay."

He watched her slim figure disappear behind the ready room doors and then turned to find Tom Paris twisted backward in his seat, a huge grin on his face. "Did you give her the rations?" he asked, obviously excited about the gift.

"Yes, I did, and she appreciated the gift very much, Tom. I think I saw a tear in her eye."

Tom's grin widened as he turned back to his console. "It was Naomi's idea. If you don't mind, I'll pass the news on to her; she's beside herself waiting to hear the captain's reaction."

Chakotay pretended to concentrate on his work as he listened to the crew quietly discuss the captain's emotional response to their thoughtful gift. While the gesture had required a relatively small sacrifice by each person, perhaps just a credit or two, the message it had sent to their captain was something she needed to hear. It told her that she was appreciated by her crew, and it let her know that they cared about her as much as she did about them.

He stood up, focusing his mind on accomplishing the day's work. What was it Kathryn had said? Keep focused on the day's tasks--take one little step at a time.

"You have the conn, Tuvok." And with those words, Chakotay went to work.

The End


End file.
